


and yet, the sun rises

by disgruntled_lesbian



Series: please give zuko a hug [4]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Eating Disorders, Episode: s03e17 The Ember Island Players, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma, Zuko (Avatar)-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24801016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disgruntled_lesbian/pseuds/disgruntled_lesbian
Summary: aang is moving through earthbender forms when zuko stumbles onto the porch, a cup of tea in hand. it tastes nothing like uncle would have made, hastily thrown together and heated with his hands, but there’s something soothing about it. zuko usually rises with the sun but it’s been a while since he watched the sunrise. he settles into seiza, setting his tea in front of him. aang tries to copy his posture with … varying degrees of success, and zuko takes a sip of tea before correcting his legs.[traumatized!zuko + the gaang on ember island]
Relationships: Jet/Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: please give zuko a hug [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1784050
Comments: 35
Kudos: 2032





	and yet, the sun rises

“sifu hotman!” zuko jerks awake, moving on instinct. he tumbles out of bed _warm soft safe_ and into a kata _protect,_ spinning to land his foot an inch from aang’s nose. _thank agni he didn’t hit — at least he has the same control of a five year old when he’s half asleep._

“good morning, aang.” he says stiffly, dropping his foot and yawning. he’s exhausted. it’s not even sunrise, and yet there’s a bouncing avatar spinning on an air ball in front of him. 

“may we do a morning meditation?” aang asks. zuko nods, bowing slightly. it’s hard enough to get aang up early for morning practice, zuko will take the chance to meditate, even if he just wants to go to bed and sleep off the last of what toph calls “katara’s life changing field trip with zuko!” 

_meditation first, then hot squats, then drills._

“i’ll meet you on the porch.” zuko says, and aang bounces out of the room. zuko sighs, running a hand through his hair. there’s a small braid hidden in his hair, and he leaves it be. sokka is buried under the blankets, hair sticking every which way, fast asleep despite aang’s sneak attack. zuko snags the top blanket and wraps it around himself. he watches sokka for a moment, tracking the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. zuko digs his pants out of a pile on the floor — he wants to steal sokka’s, to feel _warm loved safe_ , but he can’t. instead, he grabs the loose pants from his prison uniform, and an oversized shirt he found in a drawer. it might be iroh's, or lu ten's, _or ozai's ozai's_ and it smells like -- he doesn't want to think about it, but it’s clean.

it feels selfish, _horribly selfish_ , but before he can stop himself he presses a gentle kiss to sokka’s forehead, and then runs before sokka can have the chance to wake up. 

aang is moving through earthbender forms when zuko stumbles onto the porch, a cup of tea in hand. it tastes nothing like uncle would have made, hastily thrown together and heated with his hands, but there’s something soothing about it. zuko usually rises with the sun but it’s been a while since he watched the sunrise. he settles into seiza, setting his tea in front of him. aang tries to copy his posture with … varying degrees of success, and zuko takes a sip of tea before correcting his legs. 

they stay like that as the sun rises over the ocean. zuko lets the blanket pool around his body, welcoming the warmth of the sun on his skin. aang closes his eyes as he meditates, while zuko has a flame in his palms that rises and falls with his breath. zuko struggles to stay focused, the sounds of the rest of the household waking up intruding on his memories of uncle walking him through the meditation over and over again. he’d never admit it, but he misses the few minutes he and uncle would spend together on the ship _their home_ side by side in meditative silence.

they move through the rest of the morning routine in relative silence -- any words that zuko has are stuck in his throat, and aang is surprisingly quiet. being on ember island feels oppressive. everywhere zuko turns, there’s another layer of memory _wrong wrong wrong_ and it hurts. but for a moment, they’re safe and that’s what’s important. 

zuko waves aang inside when someone yells about breakfast, but stays out in the courtyard. he moves through his own morning routine of katas -- finally working up a sweat. he’s hesitant to show up to breakfast, it feels like he should be doing more _always more, never enough_ but he won’t deny aang the same way his teachers did. when he finishes, he collapses onto the steps leading to the porch, closing his eyes. there are footsteps behind him, and a familiar voice 

“hey stranger.” sokka sits on the step above him, breakfasts in hand. zuko leans back, resting his head against one of sokka’s legs. he has so much he wants to say, but everything is still stuck in his throat. 

“suki and i are gonna head into town, let you do your bending work.” sokka says, plucking a bit of egg from the bowl with his chopsticks before he hands it to zuko. zuko stares at the food, poking at it with sokka’s offered chopsticks. for once, it’s not porridge, but a collection of vegetables, egg, and rice in a broth. he eats half of it, feels sick _greedy— too much— a drain_ , and hands it back to sokka. _have you eaten_ , he wants to ask, but the words won’t come out. 

“hey, i already had mine.” sokka pushes it back into zuko’s hands. “is it the egg? do you not eat eggs here?” _no no i —_ zuko shovels the rest of it into his mouth, drinking the broth last. sokka grins at the empty bowl, and zuko feels — he’s not sure how he feels. 

“anyway, we’re going to town to see if there’s any news and stuff.” sokka says, shifting one of his feet closer to zuko’s space but not enough. zuko slides his hand along the step, almost touching sokka’s foot. he wants to _touch_ but there’s a clattering of footsteps as the rest of the gang tumbles out of the house, and the two of them pull back. 

“may we go again, sifu hotman?” aang asks, and zuko scowls at the nickname but nods. 

“show me what you’ve got.” 

* * *

zuko hates the ember island players with a burning passion— when he was young, every year his mother had taken him and - him and azula, and every year they butchered _love amongst the dragons_ . _every year - how does someone even do that??_ but sokka wants to go see _the boy in the iceberg_ or whatever it’s called, and zuko can’t say no to him. not here. 

zuko wishes he’d just stayed home. it feels like every single one of his mistakes is just being thrown back in his face. he has no idea how uncle could ever _ever_ love him again. it doesn’t matter what toph says -- zuko could spend the rest of his life atoning for what he did, and it would never be enough. he watches jet die on stage and it hits him, hard. zuko remembers the touch of his lips in the ba sing se refugee ship, the feel of his hands in his hair. a small part of him knew that jet hadn’t made it out, but the rest of him had hoped for so long — he feels sick to his stomach with _grief rage pain_. the rest of the play passes in a blur, zuko is a thousand miles away. he flinches as sokka places a hand on his shoulder, and then realizes that the show is over. 

he drifts, following sokka out of the theatre. “that … that wasn’t a good play.” is all he can contribute to the post-show conversation as they make their way back to the beach house. he lets the voices of everyone else wash over him as they bicker about the play. his grief _shame guilt sorrow_ is all consuming, and he's not sure how he made it up the stairs. standing in the middle of the room he and sokka have claimed, zuko feels lost and adrift, unsure of what to do. 

"hey buddy --" he wants to _cry, scream,_ but all he can do is stand there uselessly. sokka touches his face with a gentle hand, wiping away his tears. "let's go to bed, okay?" zuko nods, letting sokka pull him close. 

he hates himself for being so pathetic and needy, but when he wakes up from his nightmares, shaking and drenched in sweat, he curls up close to sokka. zuko watches sokka’s chest rise and fall, letting his breath lull him to sleep like a lullaby. 

**Author's Note:**

> listen i am absolutely writing a hair centric sokka/zuko fic because hair and water tribe / fire nation and yes


End file.
